


Lua

by NoCoastPosts



Series: The Life In My Veins [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Crossing Timelines, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Heavy Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoCoastPosts/pseuds/NoCoastPosts
Summary: "Regret was a ghost that no longer haunted Timmy. Shame didn’t seep in through the blinds along with the sunlight. This was his life now and pretending otherwise was pointless."A non-celebrity AU where Timmy is really struggling. Part One of The Life In My Veins Series.





	Lua

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for heavy implied drug use, direct drug use, and heavy angst throughout the series. The tags will change a bit with each one-shot. Some tags are purposefully omitted to avoid spoilers. Please feel free to recommend any relevant tags.
> 
> This is my first attempt at any type of fiction writing or fanfic. The Life In My Veins is a series featuring one-shots within the same universe. The timelines are non-linear and may seem a bit blurred; this is intentional due to Timmy's state of mind. 
> 
> Each new part features a song and incorporates song lyrics that relate to the series theme. The story titles will (likely) be the song titles. We begin with ['Lua' by Bright Eyes](https://youtu.be/TSBs-hiapo4).
> 
> Any artwork or photography added is my own unless otherwise noted.
> 
> Endless thanks to noodle_kugel and StarFromPhoenix for encouraging me to explore fic writing - exactly 30 days ago. Additional thanks to the Tumblr fic community; you know who you are! I love you beautiful beings.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182255151@N03/48139421387/in/dateposted-public/)

**_Supplies are endless in the evening / by the morning they’ll be gone_ **

 

**Late Night, February 2019**

Timmy silently slipped off the barstool and made his way toward the exit. He’d spent the better part of two hours drumming his fingers next to the whiskey he ordered. The drink sat untouched once his olfactory memory kicked in. The scent of the honey-colored liquor always reminded Timmy of _him_.

So he sat and fidgeted, compulsively checking the time too frequently. He was waiting for Saoirse’s shift to end. Timmy stepped outside and tried to quell his craving with nicotine. It didn’t do a thing to help; nothing could dull the beast inside him at this point.

(Timmy laughed bitterly at that thought - isn’t that how he got to this point in the first place? Armie’s absence was ripping him apart, so he tried a little something for the pain one night. _Just_ to take the edge off. _Just_ this once. _Just_ an effort to forget. Then the little something had to be replaced with a stronger remedy. And _another_ , and _another_ , and _another_.)

Saoirse texted Timmy around 11:20 telling him she was finishing up her shift. He bundled up as he left the bar and began the 15-minute walk to her shabby yet charming studio. Despite the bitter winter chill, he felt the smallest wave of warmth.

When he arrived, Saoirse gestured toward her coffee table lazily with one hand and continued removing her makeup with the other. Timmy placed the remnants of her stash next to her small contribution. A small wave of relief came over him as he prepared what they needed. If they rationed it well, he reasoned they’d last at least one day. Maybe two.

(Timmy wasn’t very good at reasoning anymore.)

* * *

 

**_Yeah but me I’m not a gamble / You can count on me to split / But what I tell you in the evening/ By the morning won’t make sense_  **

 

**Another Late Night, February 2019**

Timmy raised his red, blistered knuckles to knock on Saoirse’s battered wooden door. She answered with a smirk and an eye roll, gently chiding him for even knocking in the first place. 

He admitted to himself that Saoirse’s humble home was his haven at this point. But getting too close and too comfortable wasn’t in his nature now. Fortunately, she didn’t take offense. She understood and was equally reserved in her own ways. 

 

Timmy and Saoirse wanted the same thing from their friendship. 

Just someone to get high with, in a safe place without judgment. 

Just a warm body and the orgasmic feeling that stemmed from lazily playing with one another’s hair.

Just soul-bearing conversation and laughs and tears that they never remembered the next day.

Just another music lover to enjoy the sound of vibration for hours on end.

Just someone to mentally run away with.

Just a companion with the perfect balance of kindness and detachment.

 

* * *

 

**_You’re looking skinny like a model / With your eyes all painted black / Just keep going to the bathroom / Only say you’ll be right back / Well it takes one to know one kid / I think you’ve got it bad_ **

 

 **Christmas Eve, 2018**  

Saoirse and Timmy first met outside of the same bar he now frequented. They both hovered beneath the awning to smoke, and she asked to borrow his lighter. He nodded, smiled timidly, and handed it over; she gave him a quiet “thank you” in response.

As they stood in silence, Timmy couldn’t help but see the fishnet stockings peeking out from her oversized leather jacket. He also noticed something else and couldn’t quite pull his eyes away.

Saoirse noticed instantly went into fight mode. She was so accustomed to it, day in and day out.

 

“I know what you’re thinking. Yes, my job is legal. No, I won’t suck you off. And my stiletto will blind you with one good hit.“ 

“Uh-uhm…okay. I mean, I’m gay anyway. It’s just, it’s falling out…” he pointed at the small baggie slipping out of her left stocking. “I figured you’d want to know.” He paused for a beat and added “Especially if it’s that uncut China White going around right now. Sorry. Just...don't want you to lose it.”

 

Saoirse quickly locked eyes with Timmy as she cooly appraised him. He did the same, and they seemed to quickly draw the same conclusion. Two kindred spirits, alone on Christmas Eve and chain-smoking under a tattered awning.

“Thanks, kid,” Saoirse said with a faint smile. She nodded her head toward the entrance and discreetly tucked the baggie into her coat pocket. “Care to take a trip to the bathroom with me?”

Timmy thanked a god he didn’t believe in. Just as he was coming down, this mysterious girl offered him his favorite gift.

 

_‘Merry fucking Christmas to me.’_

* * *

 

**_And if you promise to stay conscious / I'll try to do the same / Well we might die from that medicine / But we sure killed all the pain_ **

 

**Saoirse’s Studio, Winter 2019**

Timmy and Saoirse never spoke of the dark possibility that they may not wake up one morning. That was one trait that drew them to one another. Both of them were bitter and exhausted from constant pleas made by their family and sober friends.

So Timmy blocked out the idea of overdose with the same intense effort he used to forget a certain pair of ocean blue eyes. In his mind, both of them equated to _some_ form of death. 

Despite their silent agreement, Timmy kept naloxone in his bag at all times after his first night at Saoirse’s studio. He discovered that she kept Narcan in her cramped, dark bathroom. The silent presence of the life-saving drug said more than words ever could. 

* * *

 

**_What was normal in the evening / By the morning seems insane_ **

 

**6 AM, February 2019**

Regret was a ghost that no longer haunted Timmy. Shame didn’t seep in through the blinds along with the sunlight. This was his life now and pretending otherwise was pointless.

Yet he couldn’t ignore the physical reminders that hit him like a freight truck. The cold sweats and shakes he passed off as nerves in public settings. The aches that radiated from head to toe and kept him buried beneath covers. 

When Timmy woke up with these pains, he’d sometimes allow himself a moment to second-guess this so-called life. Wondered what Armie would think if he saw him like this. These moments vanished quickly; cravings always trumped the brief clarity. 

* * *

 

**_And I'm not sure what the trouble was / What started all of this / The reasons all have run away/ But the feeling never did_ **

 

**Late Winter, 2019**

In the early stages, Timmy halfheartedly tried Narcotics Anonymous and other programs. When the time came to address the root of their addiction, he knew that moving forward wasn’t an option. 

Timmy and Saoirse both knew better than to ask each other certain questions. Never ask why the habit started. Don’t inquire about the origin of the pain. They wanted to believe that none of it mattered.

Despite not asking questions, both of them volunteered bits and pieces about their misery. Jumbled thoughts poured out naturally during the high. 

About broken relationships. 

About the wrong kind of touches.

About closed casket funerals.

Timmy locked his sorrows away when he was sober. But his late-night confessions made it clear that he _still_ cared. _Still_ remembered. _Still_ felt something. 

 

**... _Cause what is simple in the moonlight / By the morning never is / It was simple in the moonlight / Now it's so complicated_**

**Author's Note:**

> I've got two more WIP for this series and have no set ending in sight.
> 
> [NoCoastPosts](https://www.nocoastposts.tumblr.com) on Tumblr


End file.
